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niedziela, 24 maja 2026

ŁŚ Magazine: Nate Shumaker (The Burning Paris)



They started the band at the start of the century only to go on hiatus a few years later. In 2023 The Burning Paris announced their comeback with a new album Everything is Broken & I Don't Feel a Thing and pronounced it even louder with Last Leaves last year. I had a pleasure to talk to Nate Shumaker, the vocals, the guitars and the heart of the project that was one of my first approaches to post-rock back in the days. We spoke about the breakup and the comeback, about the silver lining of sadness and melancholia in their music and about what they mean by saying that what The Burning Paris do is "quiet music played loudly".

But we started about this moments when something feels like...

...Meeting an Old Friend


ŁŚ: Do you know this feeling when you meet a person and you realize that you used to know them and you used to like them very much. And it's so nice when you discover that they didn't change that much. So basically that was what happened to me and The Burning Paris. When I realized that you are playing for this year's Post. festival, I realized that “Coral City Ruins” was an album that I used to listen to a lot! And I have to say that I probably pirated it back in the day. Sorry about that.

So you had a fan in Poland, which I guess is...

Nate Shumaker (The Burning Paris, Dry Bones, Eksi Ekso, Everdown, Lavinia, On Fire): That's a pretty big deal because the first album was like... We didn't know anybody in the scene we were in. At first we had no idea what we were doing. You know, a lot of us have come out of emo and hardcore bands that happened to break up around the same time. But me and Josh [Megyesy], the original guitar player, had always wanted to do something with no distortion. We just wrote all these songs like that but, we didn't even know if we were doing anything that anybody would like. We just kind of did it. We were into bands like Mogwai and Early Day Miners and Low. And that's just kind of how we found it, you know?



ŁŚ: Yeah, I can hear that. I have also other bands in mind, but it's probably because I'm a little bit younger. I hear Her Name Is Calla a little bit. Also, maybe Piano Magic?

NS: Yeah, yeah, yeah, you said that in your review. And I love Piano Magic too. I was into all the old 4AD stuff a lot. 

ŁŚ: I can’t actually imagine a type of music that is further away from emo and you're playing it right now. Probably not on the lyrics front but certainly with the form. So how did it happen? 

NS: Yeah, well, I've always liked lyrics that are depressing, you know. We were loud in our old band and I sang in that band too, but I don't think I was really good at it, singing in a loud band. I mean, people liked it, but it just didn't feel comfortable to me.

I always wanted to do something that has more range than just always distorted, always loud rock. I just felt like there was something more we could do instrumentally and Josh is a really good guitar player so we decided to try that. And then Jenny [Townsend] had her band broken up, so we asked her to play cello with us. So it just kind of fell into this thing. 

We didn't really know what we were doing, but we did well enough. We went on tour a couple times. And then, you know, it's like when we had finally kind of disbanded the first lineup. Josh, Jenny and I went on and did the band On Fire, which was also on Magic Bullet.

ŁŚ: What happened? Was it only like “let's go ahead and move with our own projects” or was there something else?

NS: Some of us were just not on the same page. Josh and Jenny and I decided we're going to go do what we wanted to do. And the other guys wanted to do something different. I don't really remember how it all went down. We still are friends. And so out of respect for them and what we were doing, we changed the band name. But all the songs that ended up on the On Fire record weren't going to be Burning Paris songs. In four years a lot of different lineups came through On Fire too. So by the end of it, it was just me as the only original member. So we changed the name to be a different band entirely. You know, that was called Eksi Ekso.



ŁŚ: Right, I know Eksi Ekso!

NS: I was only on the first album. Then I started a band with Phil [Jamieson] from Caspian and Josh from the Burning Paris that was called Lavinia. And we made a couple of records for The Mylene Sheath. That was cool. But then nothing was happening for a few years. I moved back up to the Northeast from Philadelphia during the pandemic, Jenny and I started playing together again. We just kind of naturally put it back together.

ŁŚ: You simply  just came back together to play as The Burning Paris.

NS: It just kind of just fell back into place. We were going to name it something different, and then we just decided this is dumb. Let's just call it The Burning Paris.

ŁŚ: And good thing you did, because that’s how I could find you back!

NS: Yeah, exactly, because a lot of label people I was talking to were like “nobody wants to break a new band anymore!”. It's too hard, you know.

ŁŚ: So, the sound did not change that much, which is surprising, right? Because it's been 20 years!

NS: Yeah. And we all did different stuff. You know, not everybody kept playing in bands. We just kind of vibed off each other and went with it. felt good just to write a bunch of tunes, see where they fit, and just work it out. But we had no idea if anybody would care anymore. We just did it and apparently people still liked it.

ŁŚ: So you are seeing this as a real continuation of The Burning Paris, right? Even though there have been changes in the lineup and you have had other experiences. But it still feels like the same band.

NS: It is in a lot of ways because we've known that newer guys, like Jon and Brad, we've known them from way back. It's not the same, but it's a continuation. I think we've all played a lot more, so I think we might be better players and know how to make records better than we did back then. At least I think they sound better because, you know, back then we had no money. There was no label support. There was nothing. It was just us. trying to make records with Matt Squire, who is now famous as a producer, and he was barely starting out, so we had no idea what we're doing.


The Things That Changed


ŁŚ: Except for the quality of the recording process, is there anything else that feels different?

NS: One thing is I really did not want to use distortion at all back then, period. I just wanted nothing to do with it. And now I think we're a little more open to that, as long as we're selective with it, you know? A song like “Arsonist” would never have been on an old record. 



ŁŚ: So in a way, you're getting more post-rockey.

NS: I think so. Back then I thought you can be heavy without distortion. And now it's different. It adds a different dynamic. I think we're just a little bit more thoughtful about how we write stuff now, I mean, we still play a couple of the older tunes once in a while, but the newer stuff just feels more thought out.

ŁŚ: I noticed that Coral City Ruins and the following EP, it’s not possible to find them anywhere. The only thing is a compilation of the tracks on your streamings. So that's why I thought that maybe you don't want to take this heritage of The Burning Paris and make it your own right now. But you're saying that it's not the case.

NS: No, It's like actually after we'd broken up back in the day all the old The Burning Paris stuff was out of print and Magic Bullet had expressed interest in putting it back out again. But we didn't want to put out two different CDs for a band that didn't exist. So we just put it all in one thing. And I didn't have the art files anyway, so I just redid it. You know, files get old, computers change, you lose stuff. It wasn't like we were on some major label where they hold on to all that stuff. But it's fun that, you know, I never even looked up our stuff on Spotify or Apple Music or anything ever until like 8 years ago I noticed that it was on streaming. I had no idea because I hadn't been paying attention to it. And I saw that “In Ruins” has 30,000 plays or something. And I was kind of like, who are these people? Where were they? 


The Paris That Is Burning


ŁŚ: I'm very nostalgic over this album, because I remember how I discovered it. It was still these times when I paid attention to the names of the projects. Is that weird? I think it's kind of weird, but I like the name of the project and that's why I wanted to get to know more about it. I mean, if I were to dig into this, you could possibly say that it's maybe like Paris as the symbol of art and it is burning. So there could be a statement in this, but I guess it’s not the case?

NS: There wasn't. We were trying to come up with names and it's really hard to name a band. It's not even fun. Somebody never likes it or none of you ever like it. Or in two years, nobody likes it. But then it just becomes a name. If you think of Radiohead, that's a really dumb band name. You just don't think about it anymore. I thought it was a play on the movie Paris is Burning, but, also, back then everybody was putting “The” in front of everything. I think it made it more like a moment versus an action: like a sentence versus an ongoing event. But right now it's just the name of the band.

ŁŚ: There is also a notion of a tragedy in this. It suits the themes in your songs, right?

NS: Our words aren't happy, but… There's always a little bit of hope, always a little bit of silver lining. I think it resonates with people in many ways because it's okay to be in a bad mood, but also know that it's not forever, you know?



ŁŚ: The comeback album's title is “Everything is Broken & I Don't Feel a Thing”. If that was an album by The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die, it would be so perfect!

NS: For a period of time, I was hanging out with Phil from Caspian, and I had just spit it out one day. He was like, what would you name your next album? And I said this, and I just made it up. I thought it was funny and he wanted to steal it but I said no, you can't have it. I don't know. It was about a time in my life when things were really uncertain, just me and my cat and a bunch of stuff. It just fell right there. It’s maybe snarky or tongue in cheek, but it made me laugh and the rest of the band let me do it.

But it’s not a broader commentary on reality, nothing like that. It's more personal. It's about relationships, about how when something feels perfect, it doesn't mean that it really is. Like everything can feel broken, but you can feel numb to it at the same time. It felt like I'd just thrown all this stuff, energy into something, but it still didn’t work. 

ŁŚ: So your lyrics are based on your experiences?

NS: Some are based on moments of time, you know, like little bits of things. There's rarely a whole narrative of something. It's the little moments that you can remember,  something like, walking in the woods or with somebody or, you know, waking up next to somebody. Or even the moment of going on a walk by yourself and thinking of the notion of what's bigger in the universe, what else is there outside of us, things like that. But that's not all sad. Some of it sounds more sad than it is, but it's not all just depressing to be depressing.

ŁŚ: Yeah, it's the silver lining, right? This is a phrase that you use a lot.

NS: Yeah, exactly. Silver lining is a great word for that. Heartfelt things can be emotionally heavy, and I think they don't have to be either positive or negative. Sometimes you can feel both at once, you know.
Sometimes I feel like the best songs out in the world are ones that you can feel really happy listening to. But also, if you're really sad, they work too.

I think that's a tough song to write. I don't know if I've ever done it, A song that can make somebody feel good but also relatable when it's bad too. 

ŁŚ: The fact that people can relate to a song, it should help them, right? It should tell them that other people also feel like this.

NS: I hope so. I mean, we played on Friday night and there was a nice girl who was talking to us and saying that she had heard one of our songs on a playlist somewhere and she felt something about it. And now she comes on our shows. She just found it on some playlist, this is very inspiring to me. I don't want to be the guy that makes people cry all the time, but if you can relate to it, if it makes you feel good, that's great.

I think our songs will always have some feelings to them, it's not like we're going to sing about cars or mowing the lawn or something like that.

We like to bring a mood to it, and I think it works. We're all pretty fun people. We're not moping around sad all the time, but this is where we put feelings, where we put ourselves into. We take it seriously, but we can joke about it too.

I don't really know what the songs are going to be about until I start writing things down and then they kind of just take shape. But sometimes, if I can have one line to grab onto and use, then I can move, make it a thing. I'm not really concerned if anybody else makes sense out of it too, I like to just leave the lyrics a little bit abstract. I think that nobody cares about my individual moment in time specifically, they might want the idea of it but that’s it. It's like painting, you know, everybody can interpret it however they want.


Sounds and Colours


ŁŚ: Oh, I wanted to ask about this too! Because I understand that you're also a visual artist. I've seen that you work for Caspian on their cover arts.

NS: I have in the past, yeah. I designed a bunch of stuff. I did a lot of album covers, for other bands and labels too: Caspian, some reissues for Warner Brothers records. And then Type-O Negative’s “Bloody Kisses” issue. Random stuff like that. I also do our stuff. 



ŁŚ: I love “The Last Leaves” album cover! Is it a painting or a photo?

NS: Thank you so much, that really means a lot. It's a digital collage. I took a photo of that bush out somewhere. And then I just turned it black and white and layered all these weird things on it and mixed it together. And the front layout is actually an accident. When I was laying out the spread, I accidentally moved the whole piece so there was that space on the right side, and I didn't realize it. And then I was like, actually, I kind of dig that. Then I put the type there, and then I let the cover bleed over the back.

ŁŚ: It looks like some kind of very old photography technique.

NS: Yeah, no, it's not actually. It's a lot of digital layers. It's just a photo from my iPhone. It wasn't that exciting.

ŁŚ: Do you think creating visual art and music is similar in any way? I don't create any music, so I have no idea how it translates, but I’m sure there must be some common ground.

NS: I think there's definitely similarities because in music, there's layers, there's nuance, there's different things that have to all work together. Layering a song together is like layering art together, but I guess it depends on where you're starting with it. Some songs come together really easily and other ones don't. It's just it depends what you're creating it for.

ŁŚ: I was thinking about your description of creating this artwork for “Last Leaves”. Creating something very easy and simple at first and then screwing around it. Is it also the case in creating music?

NS: Yeah, I think so, especially that we have six people in the band. There's a lot of that. One of us, Chris or Jon or I or Jesse, can bring in an idea and it can start out one way and end up totally somewhere else. “Arsonists” is a prime example of that. When I wrote that, it was just myself and a guitar and it ended up being heavy and loud, like a shoegaze song. That's not how I wrote it. But it works and it’s because we all did it together.

ŁŚ: So do you always have to collectively agree that something works?

NS: Yeah, we do now. Back in the day, it was less of a collaborative thing, I had to push a little harder to make it what I wanted to be. But now, we all know what we want it to be and we're okay with pushing the envelope a little bit further out here and there, which is cool. Plus we're a lot older and we're not as grumpy as we were.

ŁŚ: You're becoming less grumpy when you get older? That's the other way than it should be.

NS: Well, I think we're grumpier about different things now. Back then we were really a lot pickier, but now it's like we kind of feel lucky that we can still do this and have fun with it. 


The Burning Paris at Sinclair, photo by Kim Maroon


The World Is a Beautiful Place?


ŁŚ: Talking about things that changed, the world has changed since the first album of The Burning Paris came out. Does it feel different?

NS: Sure. I mean, the world itself, definitely. We barely had cell phones when we were down the first time. It's like, now everybody's got it. There was no streaming music. Vinyls were around, but they weren’t as popular. CDs were everything. Attention spans are a lot shorter everywhere, social media made that happen. Streaming music made it easier to just skip around, it's like you really have to earn it to get somebody to not just find you, but actually want to commit to listening to it, you know?

ŁŚ: You do write long songs, but not that long.

NS: We had a few in the back in the day that were a lot longer, but not that many. We like the five or six minute mark. That's a good spot.There's sounds that I've heard other people make and I'm like, dude, this is 13-minutes long. Stop it. What, are you a doom metal band?

ŁŚ: I was thinking more like Godspeed You!Black Emperor.

NS: Yeah, OK, that's different. They're doing more like an orchestral piece. And we're kind of like mixing that with more of a pop sensibility, not really pop, but mixing a halfway point. We don't make them shorter collectively or consciously. We kind of learned  that it isn't always cool to have a long song, just to have a long song. If you've said all you have to say in 3 1/2 minutes, be done with it. That's fine. Move on.

ŁŚ: The world’s changed also in another way. The whole situation in the world right now is kind of getting more, I'll say, depressing. When you follow the news and everything. Do you feel like the themes you are writing about in The Burning Paris, are they more fitting to this world right now, or is it the other way around? Because maybe we are not focusing on emotions possibly as much as before. Rather just observing what's in the world.

NS: I mean, as far as our music goes, I don't think the world outside affects it much, because the stuff that I'm writing about or that we're doing as a band is personal. We don't write songs about politics or the state of the world or wars or anything like that. We just don't do it. I mean, we have our views and we're all on the same page, as you can imagine, we're not super pumped on what our country is doing right now. Godspeed is political. They're out there, they're liberal, they're anarchists. We have those emotions in places, but I'm not gonna get up on a stage and tell somebody how to live their damn life either, you know?

ŁŚ: Yeah, I understand. I was more thinking about the listeners perspective. If they’re still interested in those more personal feelings or are they more focused on what's going on around them. Are they maybe too distracted and worried for self-reflection?

NS: Yeah, I see what you're saying. I don't know, I just try to keep it about what I can write about. I guess it could be reflective of something happening in the world, but I'm not going to let it be known for that. I like to keep it vague, you know. 

ŁŚ: And you mentioned that you met someone recently, right, who said that your songs resonated with her.

NS: I didn't ask her why it resonated with her. I just let her think about it. She didn't ask me what it meant either. I think that's important. The lyrics are a little bit vague, you can apply that to anything you want to.


Quiet Music Played Loudly


ŁŚ: I really, really like the description of your music that you put somewhere online: that it is quiet music played loudly. What exactly do you mean by that?

NS: Well, I think back in the day, when we first started, the songs sounded a lot quieter, you know, mellower than anything we'd ever done. We always played it at a loud volume, always. I wanted people to feel it. When I saw Mogwai for the first time, I remember it was one of the loudest things on earth. You could feel it in your chest.



ŁŚ: I know. I've been to my Bloody Valentine concert and it's a physical, you know, it's a physical experience.

NS: Yeah, you get it. And Mogwai is like that too. I mean, it's the only time I've ever gone to see a show. where I had earplugs in and my ears were still ringing the next day. But it's so good because you're just in it, it's like you're in the sound. We're not as loud. Our music might put you to sleep at night if you're listening to the old stuff. But when you come to see it live, we're going to make you listen a little bit harder. 

ŁŚ: Have you ever been to Europe touring?

NS: Not with the band, no. I hope we can get over there at some point. It's hard for us, we all have jobs and lives. We have to get a pretty good deal to go over there.

ŁŚ: I understand. But you're playing Post. festival this year!

NS: Yeah. And maybe someday Dunk! will have us over too. 🦢

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You can find The Burning Paris records at: 


The Burning Paris will play Post. Festival in Indianapolis, Indiana on July 24. 

The cover art included a picture of the band performing live at Trinity Beer Garden, pic by Diana Caetano.




niedziela, 11 stycznia 2026

ŁŚ Magazine: Flower and Pines (EN)


Sasha Pushkin and Jegor Mickiewicz have been living in Poland for years, creating their artistic in form and unsettling in message music as Flower and Pines. Their socially (though not politically) engaged yet poetic lyrics evoke post-punk sensibility, but their guitar-heavy music, which doesn't shy away from truly noisy moments, places them somewhere in the realm of post-rock. And if so, this is one of my favorite post-rock projects in the country. I managed to talk with Sasha, Jegor, and their new drummer, Anton, during their December concert at Krakow's Oliwa pub. How does their nationality influence their music? Is the new album meant to be still a warning or already a commentary? And what does minimalism mean in their music?


ŁŚ: I'll start by quoting a bit from Wikipedia: "Poet of transformations, Slavic bard," "classic of Russian and world literature," that's about Mickiewicz and Pushkin. Those are quite big shoes to step into, aren't they? Did you choose so ambitiously on purpose?

Sasha Pushkin: No, no, Mickiewicz is Jegor's real surname! And Pushkin is just a nickname.

ŁŚ: So, Jegor, do you have Polish roots? Or is that a Belarusian surname?
Jegor Mickiewicz: Here it's considered that I have Polish roots. My paternal family comes from the parts of western Belarus that changed hands multiple times. THAT Mickiewicz was also from those regions.
ŁŚ: So you're the family of the Great Bard?
JM: Well, there are a lot of Mickiewiczes there. In Poland, the surname Mickiewicz isn't that common, but there, it's quite the opposite.

ŁŚ: So it's a complete coincidence? Incredible. But at the same time, Flower and Pines' lyrics are heavily based on plot, on stories, practically like literary works. Do you feel any connection to the Romantic literature? Because I see some connections.

JM: Yes, yes. I write our lyrics. Of course, it has nothing to do with my surname being Mickiewicz, but I've simply always liked literature and poetry. There might be something to do with Romanticism, but I can't say I draw any specific inspiration from this or that literary genre.

ŁŚ: I even see something Romanticism-related in the band's name: Flower and Pines. The symbolism of nature, that sort of thing. Where did your name come from?

SP: We wanted it to be like the title of a painting in a museum.

JM: To present the title of a painting without any details of the work itself. So that the listener could figure out the details themselves. I also think there were some inspirations from black metal symbolism. Pine trees, conifers. They remind me of...

SP: A Norwegian forest. Darkthrone! (laughter)

ŁS: I have another reference to the historical figures of Mickiewicz and Pushkin: they were also known for their anti-tsarist stance. Mickiewicz, of course, but so was Pushkin, at least at the beginning.

JM: Exactly, but later not so much. But it won't be like that with us, don't be afraid! (laughter)

ŁŚ: But I wanted to ask, do you see yourselves as, let's say, rebels against the modern-day tsars?

SP: Against the entire world in a sense. Against all evil, while supporting all that is good. It might sound silly, but that's how I would put it. It's not about a specific "tsar," but about things in the world we disagree with.

JM: I rather see it this way: you can't see any specific worldview in our music. What do we think about any specific politician, for example. When you listen to our music, it's like watching a historical film and you can choose which side you're on. You can choose whether you're for this particular thing or against it.

SP: Or maybe is it about you?

JM: Exactly.

ŁS: But we can't escape the fact that you're from Belarus. And that it's some kind of a commentary on the situation there.

JM: Yes, yes, of course.




ŁŚ: Especially the Hnieŭ EP, on which you sing in Belarusian. Was it created with a specific event in mind? Or simply as a reaction to the situation in Belarus?

JM: More likely, simply as a reaction to all of this. We wrote Hnieŭ, which means "anger" in English, when things were at their most intense. We recorded what we felt then. It's not an anthem, not a hymn. It's not like we're saying: "Hey! We're going to the barricades!" I think that, to some extent, it's like a panikhida (a funeral service in Eastern Rite Christian Churches - ŁŚ), like a requiem. We're saying that we know what it was like there and how deeply we feel about it.

ŁŚ: Do you have any signs that you're being listened to in Belarus? That you're being noticed?

JM: Yes, we know that we're being listened to in Belarus, but... In reality, there are very few people left in Belarus who could listen to us. Who could be our audience. Many of them already live somewhere in Europe.

SP: In fact, we haven't lived in Belarus for a long time; we left before the worst happened. So maybe we simply don't exactly know what's going on there. Although there are still some people who listen to us there.

Anton Betson: I can also add that there are Belarusian media outlets online that write about us. About the existence of this band and its music, but not in a political context.

JM: Especially since the release of our last album.





ŁŚ: Right, this year you released the album Unconditional Love, which includes my favorite song of the year, Dogs. The entire album, as you describe it, presents a dystopian picture. Each track is poignant, showing a sense of helplessness in the face of oppressive power, but I feel it most strongly in Dogs. This song describes the attitude of an individual hounded by the regime, by the society in which they live. You describe it, but you don't comment on whether such an attitude is wrong or maybe understandable.

SP: I think all comments must come not from the creator, but from the listeners, because every person has their own story, so the message will never be the same for everyone.

JM: You know, with Dogs, the song itself is about how there's no side to choose. It's about how, when you live under a regime, you're both a policeman and a victim. Everything changes: today you're looking for someone who disagrees with the regime, and tomorrow they come after you.

SP: It's normal that we all have something bad and something good inside us. Today you do good things, tomorrow you do bad things. That's human nature.

ŁŚ: When I listen to Unconditional Love, I wonder if you see it as a warning about a situation that might arise, or more as a commentary on what's actually happening?

JM: Both. We're from a country that, in our lifetimes, has always been the way it is now; sometimes it was just a little better, sometimes a little worse. But now it's the hardest, it's like in those dystopian books. And what's happening in Poland doesn't look particularly good either, right? Of course, it's in no way comparable to what's happening in our country, but the intentions themselves are a bit terrifying.

ŁŚ: So do you think that it's possible that the situation in Poland will actually get close to what's happening in Belarus?

JM: We're not saying it will, we just know that these things happen very quickly.

SP: In an instant, you can find yourself in a completely different place than you were yesterday.

JM: That's why it's terrifying. So it's both a warning and a reflection on what we already know.

SP: It's always like that. When World War II ended, everyone kept repeating all this advice about remembering, because as long as you remember, you won't do the same shit again. But when you finally forget, suddenly: good morning! (laughter)

ŁŚ: This whole album is quite terrifying. Was that the intention?

JM: I think so. But it wasn't as if I said, "Sasha, come on, let's do something terrifying!" It was just that during the making of the album, it turned out that this was the only way we could do it.

SP: I think it was some kind of unformulated feeling somewhere inside us, we just saw that we had to choose these options, create these sounds. But we didn't agree to do it this way. It just happened that way.

ŁŚ: The album title is... It's ironic, right?

SP: No.

JM: To some extent, yes.

SP: Well, actually to some extent, but I would say irony is the last thing on my mind when I think about it.

JM: First of all, that phrase appears at the end of the song Act of Historical Justice. It's about a lie, it's about 2+2 equaling 5, about us saying we're here to help you. This war is there to prevent more wars, this repression is there to make things better for you. This is love, but you don't understand it yet.





SP: That's just how it is in this world. And it's not ironic, it's more sad than ironic.

JM: Another thing is that this phrase doesn't apply only to this song. In all the songs on the album, there's something about love. It can be different. For example, in Jerusalem, the lyrical subject also feels some kind of love, love for this place for which blood is shed. That, too, is love.

SP: So this is an album about love?

JM: Yes, yes, about love that can be very different.

ŁŚ: Someone who picked up the album just by looking at the title probably wouldn't expect it to be like that inside. It's filled with pessimism (or perhaps realism, since you're commenting on reality), but do you see any reason for optimism beyond that? Is there a place for it in music?

SP: There's definitely a place for it, but maybe it's not the right time yet.

JM: I don't see a place for it in music. Even my mother often asks me that. Do you…

SP: When will you play about happy things? (laughter)

JM: That's exactly what she asked me a few weeks ago: are you and Sasha doing anything new, and will it be a bit more optimistic? To which I replied that I don't know. Because I see no reason to be optimistic; everything seems to be getting worse. I just feel utter pessimism.

SP: We'll see how it goes, because we're only in the middle of recording a new album! Maybe something will change! (laughter)

ŁŚ: So there's already a plan for the next album? Are you planning to release it next year?

JM: It would be great if it were next year, but things can happen, who knows.

ŁŚ: I'd like to return to optimism for a moment. Do you hope to go to Belarus for a concert someday?

JM: It might happen someday. All those people there won't live forever! They might think that way, but it's impossible. So I hope we'll go someday. The problem is, not only we can't go there for a concert. We can't go there at all. So when I think about Belarus, it's not primarily about wanting to play there. I just want to see this place again.





ŁŚ: You recently changed the band's lineup. Now you're playing as a foursome. Is it very different from your perspective? There's a video on YouTube titled "We have finally become a four piece band", as if you were really looking forward to it.

SP: I'd say maybe we weren't "waiting," but we're definitely happy. Our music just sounds a bit different when we're on stage as a duo than when we're playing as a foursome now. I think Jegor was more keen on changing that; I wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea back then, but now I like it.

JM: It's definitely harder, because when we were just two people, we had to communicate only with each other. And with four people, you have to manage things more. But yes, I really wanted it because I thought there were certain things that would simply sound better with more people. Now that we're playing as a foursome, you can hear more space in our sound.

AB: I went to concerts when Sasha and Yegor were playing as a duo and I thought to myself, "Wow, what will it sound like when there's real drums and bass?"





ŁŚ: You're playing a few shows with Spoiwo and Jo Quail next year. Spoiwo is an icon of Polish post-rock, and Jo Quail is associated with many artists in this genre; she played with God Is an Astronaut, for example. Do you feel any connection to this genre at all?

SP: It's definitely one of the genres we like, especially me. Back in Belarus, I played in two bands: Challenger Deep, which is more post-metal, and Marie Chante, which is more of a screamo band, but with post-rock elements.

JM: You could say Sasha really has post-rock roots. I hadn't listened to that genre before.

SP: I've unlocked it in you!

JM: I've been a Swans fan for a long time, but it might not be exactly seen as post-rock. I started discovering true post-rock bands for myself when we started Flower and Pines.

ŁS: I can understand that, I think post-rock conveys a lot of content and emotion using instruments, but you write lyrics, and it's them that are very emotional and poetic.

JM: I think there's a connection there, yes. I started listening to instrumental music quite late in life. I always wanted lyrics, someone singing.

ŁŚ: At this point, you're conveying messages and emotions through both words and music. Do you think it's possible to combine the two in one project?

JM: We have no problem combining this. In fact, when we started our band, I thought there wouldn't really be much vocals. In bands, I've always been more of a vocalist, but here I wanted to play guitar and do something more instrumental, so the vocals would be more of an addition, but it turned out a bit differently.

ŁŚ: Sure. I asked about this because the description of your music, I think on Spotify, says that you create minimalist music. I, for one, don't hear that at all.

JM: Oh, because it's about minimalism in composition.

SP: Exactly. If we were doing something more complicated, we'd achieve a different goal than we intended. A minimalist approach to composition allows listeners to experience a certain feeling throughout the composition, for example, several times. This allows us to finally grasp its meaning, I think.

JM: For example, if we don't change a chord throughout the entire piece, then...

SP: It's kind of the foundation. If we assume that one song is a story, then that one chord is the foundation upon which everything happens. And then maybe you add different scenes, different characters who do something, something happens, but that foundation doesn't change until the end.

JM: I think I'm not lying if I say that we also want our music to sound a bit trance-like, so that you can get carried away by that trance. That's why when we talk about minimalism, it's simply about composition, but in arrangements, it can be completely eclectic.

ŁŚ: Well, that wall of sound does appear from time to time! Lyrically, you also repeat the same motifs and phrases, for example in Dogs. It can also have a trance-like effect.

JM: When we were making Dogs, we didn't have that goal in mind at the beginning.

SP: I would say that when creating our songs, we first think about how their elements would work together to form a cohesive whole. Although we didn't agree on any specific goal, we still felt deep inside how we wanted our songs to sound.

JM: Plus, I've had this feeling since childhood that when I hear something cool, I want it to just repeat and repeat and repeat. I often feel sad that a cool moment only appeared once. 

SP: All these little things maintain the atmosphere of this trance. 

JM: So that our compositions can truly work.🦢





ŁŚ Magazine: Flower and Pines (PL)


Sasha Pushkin i Jegor Mickiewicz od lat mieszkają w Polsce i tworzą swoją artystyczną w formie i niepokojącą w przesłaniu muzykę jako Flower and Pines. Zaangażowane społecznie (choć nie politycznie) a jednocześnie poetyckie teksty utworów przywodzą na myśl post-punkową wrażliwość, ale mocno gitarowa muzyka, która nie stroni od prawdziwie hałaśliwych momentów sytuuje ich gdzieś w obrębie post-rocka. A w takim razie jest to jeden z moich ulubionych projektów post-rockowych w kraju. Udało mi się z Sashą, Jegorem i nowym perkusistą Antonem porozmawiać przy okazji grudniowego koncertu w krakowskim pubie Oliwa. Jak pochodzenie wpływa na ich muzykę? Czy nowy album ma być dla nas jeszcze ostrzeżeniem czy już komentarzem? I w czym objawia się minimalizm ich muzyki?


ŁŚ: Zacytuję wam na początek trochę Wikipedii: “Poeta przeobrażeń, bard słowiański”, “klasyk literatury rosyjskiej i światowej”, to o Mickiewiczu i Puszkinie. Takie dość duże buty, żeby w nie wejść, prawda? Specjalnie sobie tak ambitnie wybraliście? 

Sasha Pushkin: Nie, nie, Jegor jak naprawdę ma na nazwisko Mickiewicz! A Pushkin to taka ksywa po prostu. 

ŁŚ: Czyli, Jegor, masz polskie korzenie? Czy to jest nazwisko raczej białoruskie? 

Jegor Mickiewicz: Tak tu się uznaje, że mam polskie korzenie. Moja rodzina po ojcu jest z tych okolic zachodniej Białorusi, które przechodziły z rąk do rąk. Ten Mickiewicz też był z tych rejonów. 

ŁŚ: Czyli jesteś rodziną Wielkiego Wieszcza? 

JM: Ee tam, tam dużo jest tych Mickiewiczów. W Polsce nazwisko Mickiewicz nie jest takie częste, ale tam wręcz przeciwnie. 

ŁŚ: Czyli to jest zupełny przypadek? Niesamowite. Ale jednocześnie teksty Flower and Pines mocno bazują na fabule, na historii, praktycznie jak utwory literackie. Czujesz jakiś związek z literaturą Romantyzmu? Bo ja widzę trochę związków. 

JM: Tak, tak. Ja piszę nasze teksty. Oczywiście nie ma tu związku z tym, że mam na nazwisko Mickiewicz, ale po prostu zawsze lubiłem i literaturę i poezję. Z tym Romantyzmem to może coś być na rzeczy, ale nie mogę powiedzieć, że czerpię jakąś konkretną inspirację z tego czy innego nurtu literatury. 

 ŁŚ: Ja widzę coś nawet w nazwie zespołu: Flower and Pines. Symbolika natury, te rzeczy. Skąd się wzięła wasza nazwa? 

SP: Chcieliśmy żeby była jak tytuł jakiegoś obrazu w muzeum. 

JM: Tak żeby przedstawić tytuł obrazu bez żadnych detali samego dzieła. Żeby słuchacz mógł się szczegółów sam już domyślić. Z mojej strony były też chyba inspiracje symboliką black metalową. Sosny, drzewa iglaste. Kojarzą mi się z… 

SP: Norweskim lasem. Darkthronem! (śmiech) 

ŁS: Mam jeszcze jedno nawiązanie do historycznych postaci Mickiewicza i Puszkina: oni byli też znani z postawy anty-carskiej. Mickiewicz to wiadomo, ale Puszkin też, przynajmniej na początku. 

JM: Właśnie, ale później już nie do końca. Ale z nami tak nie będzie, nie bójcie się! (śmiech) 

ŁŚ: Ale chciałem spytać, czy wy się widzicie jako tacy, powiedzmy, buntownicy przeciwko współczesnym carom? 

SP: Przeciwko całemu światu w jakimś sensie. Przeciwko całemu złu, wspierając wszystko, co dobre. Może to brzmi głupio, ale tak bym to powiedział. Nie chodzi o konkretnego “cara”, tylko o rzeczy w świecie, z którymi się nie zgadzamy. 

 JM: Ja raczej widzę to tak, że w naszej muzyce nie można zobaczyć jakiegoś konkretnego światopoglądu. Co my uważamy o jakimś konkretnym polityku na przykład. Jak słuchasz naszej muzyki to ma być tak, jakbyś oglądał film historyczny i mógł wybrać sobie, po której stronie się opowiadasz. Możesz wybrać, czy jesteś za tym, czy jesteś przeciwko. 

SP: Czy może to o tobie? 

JM: Właśnie. 

ŁS: Ale nie możemy uciec od tego, że jesteście z Białorusi. I że to jest jakiś komentarz odnośnie sytuacji, która tam panuje. 

JM: Tak, no tak, oczywiście. 




ŁŚ: Zwłaszcza chodzi o EP-kę Hnieŭ, na której śpiewasz po Białorusku. Ona powstała właśnie z myślą o jakimś konkretnym wydarzeniu? Czy po prostu jako reakcja wobec tego, jak wygląda sytuacja na Białorusi? 

JM: Raczej po prostu jako reakcja na to wszystko. Hnieŭ, czyli “gniew” po polsku, pisaliśmy w momencie, kiedy było tam najostrzej, zapisaliśmy na niej to, co wtedy czuliśmy. To nie jest żaden anthem, żaden hymn. To nie tak, że my nią mówimy: “Hej! Idziemy na barykady!”. Bardziej myślę, że w pewnym stopniu to jest jak panichida (nabożeństwo żałobne w Kościołach chrześcijańskich obrządku wschodniego - przyp. ŁŚ), jak requiem. Mówimy nią, że my wiemy jak to wszystko było i jak bardzo jest nam z tego powodu źle. 

ŁŚ: Macie jakieś sygnały, że słucha się was w Białorusi? Że jesteście zauważeni? 

JM: Tak, wiemy, że nas słuchają w Białorusi, ale... Tak naprawdę w Białorusi zostało już bardzo mało ludzi, którzy mogliby nas słuchać. Którzy mogliby być naszą publicznością. Wielu z nich mieszka już gdzieś w Europie. 

SP: Wręcz my sami już dawno nie mieszkamy w Białorusi, wyjechaliśmy jeszcze zanim to najgorsze się wydarzyło. Może więc my sami po prostu nie wiemy do końca, co tam się dzieje. Chociaż są tam wciąż jacyś ludzie, którzy nas słuchają. 

Anton Betson: Ja mogę jeszcze dodać, że są białoruskie media w internecie, które o nas pisują. O tym, że jest taki zespół i tworzy muzykę, ale nie w kontekście politycznym. 

JM: Zwłaszcza od wydania naszej ostatniej płyty. 




ŁŚ: No właśnie, w tym roku wydaliście płytę Unconditional Love, a na niej moją ulubioną piosenkę tego roku, Dogs. Cała płyta, jak to sami opisujecie, przedstawia sobą dystopijny obraz, a każdy utwór po kolei jest przejmujący, pokazujący poczucie bezradności wobec opresyjnej władzy. Ale najbardziej czuję to w Dogs właśnie. Ta piosenka opisuje postawę pewnej jednostki zaszczutej przez reżim, przez społeczeństwo, w którym żyje. Opisujecie ją, ale nie komentujecie, czy taka postawa jest złe czy może da się ją zrozumieć. 

SP: Ja myślę, że wszystkie komentarze muszą wyjść nie od twórcy, ale od słuchaczy, bo każdy człowiek ma swoją historię, przez co przesłanie nie będzie nigdy dla każdego takie samo. 

JM: Wiesz, jak chodzi o Dogs, to sama piosenka jest o tym, że nie ma żadnej strony, po której można się opowiedzieć. Chodzi w niej o to, że kiedy mieszkasz w reżimie, to jesteś i policjantem i ofiarą. Wszystko się zmienia: dzisiaj ty szukasz kogoś, kto nie zgadza się z reżimem, a jutro przychodzą po ciebie. 

 SP: To normalne, że wszyscy mamy w sobie to coś złego i to coś dobrego. Dzisiaj robisz jakieś dobre rzeczy, jutro złe. Taki jest człowiek. 

ŁŚ: Kiedy słucham Unconditional Love, to zastanawiam się, czy widzicie ją jako ostrzeżenie przed sytuacją, która może nastąpić, czy już bardziej jako komentarz odnośnie tego, co faktycznie się dzieje? 

JM: I jedno i drugie. Jesteśmy z kraju, który za naszego życia zawsze był taki jaki jest teraz, czasem było tylko trochę lepiej, czasem trochę gorzej. Ale teraz jest najtrudniej, jest jak w tych dystopijnych książkach. A to, co dzieje się w Polsce też nie wygląda specjalnie dobrze, prawda? Oczywiście, nie jest to w żadnym stopniu porównywalne do tego, co jest u nas, ale same intencje są trochę przerażające. 

ŁŚ: Widzicie w takim razie takie zagrożenie, że tutaj też może faktycznie tak być jak w Białorusi? 

JM: Nie mówimy, że tak będzie, ale po prostu wiemy, że takie rzeczy zdarzają się bardzo szybko. 

SP: W jednym momencie możesz znaleźć się w całkiem innym miejscu, niż byłeś wczoraj. 

JM: Dlatego to jest przerażające. A więc to od razu i ostrzeżenie i refleksja o tym, co my już znamy. 

SP: Zawsze tak jest. Jak skończyła się druga wojna światowa, to po niej każdy powtarzał te wszystkie porady, że trzeba pamietać, bo dopóki pamiętasz, nie będziesz robił tego samego gówna. Ale jak już zapomnisz to nagle: dzień dobry! (śmiech) 

ŁŚ: Cała ta płyta jest w dużym stopniu przerażająca. Taka była intencja? 

JM: Myślę, że tak. Ale to nie było tak, że powiedziałem “Sasha, dawaj, zrobimy coś przerażającego!”. Po prostu w ciągu tworzenia płyty okazało się, że tylko w ten sposób możemy ją zrobić. 

SP: Mnie się wydaje, że to było takie niesformułowane uczucie gdzieś tam w środku, po prostu gdzieś tam widzieliśmy, że musimy wybrać te opcje, stworzyć te dźwięki. Ale nie umówiliśmy się, że tak właśnie robimy. Tak po prostu wyszło. 

ŁŚ: Tytuł płyty (“bezwarunkowa miłość” po polsku) to jest... To jest ironia, prawda? 

SP: Nie. 

JM: W pewnym stopniu tak. 

SP: No, faktycznie w pewnym stopniu tak, ale ja bym powiedział, że ironia to ostatnie o czym bym pomyślał. 

JM: Po pierwsze, ta fraza pojawia się na końcu utworu Act of Historical Justice. Chodzi tu o kłamstwo, chodzi o to, że tutaj 2+2 jest 5, że my mówimy, że przyszliśmy tutaj, żeby wam pomóc. Ta wojna jest po to, by nie było więcej wojen, te represje są po to, by było wam lepiej. To jest miłość, ale wy tego jeszcze nie rozumiecie. 




SP: Tak po prostu jest w tym świecie. I to nie jest ironiczne, to jest bardziej smutne. 

JM: Inna sprawa, że ta fraza nie tyczy się tylko tego utworu. We wszystkich kawałkach na płycie jest coś o tej miłości. Ona może być różna. Na przykład w Jerusalem podmiot liryczny też czuje jakąś miłość, miłość do tego miejsca, za które leje się krew. To też jest jakby miłość. 

SP: Czyli to jest płyta o miłości? 

JM: Tak, tak, o miłości, która może być bardzo różna. 

ŁŚ: Ktoś, kto by sięgnął po płytę patrząc tylko na tytuł, pewnie by się nie spodziewał, że taka będzie w środku. Jest przepełniona pesymizmem (czy też może realizmem, bo przecież komentujecie rzeczywistość), ale czy poza tym widzicie jakiś powód do optymizmu? Czy jest dla niego miejsce w muzyce? 

SP: Miejsce na pewno jest, ale może to jeszcze nie właściwy czas. 

JM: Ja nie widzę na to miejsca w muzyce. Nawet moja mama często mnie o to pyta. Czy… 

SP: Kiedy będziesz grał wesoło? (śmiech) 

JM: Dokładnie tak mnie kilka tygodni temu pytała: czy wy tam z Saszą coś robicie nowego i czy będzie trochę bardziej optymistycznie? Na co ja odpowiedziałem, że nie wiem. Bo ja nie widzę powodów do optymizmu, wszystko wydaje się tylko pogarszać. Czuję tylko totalny pesymizm. 

SP: Zobaczymy jeszcze jak będzie, bo my jesteśmy dopiero w trakcie nagrywania nowego tytułu! Może coś się zmieni! (śmiech) 

ŁŚ: Czyli jest już plan na następny krążek? Planujecie wydać go w przyszłym roku? 

JM: Dobrze by było, żeby w przyszłym roku, ale jak to wyjdzie to wiadomo, że może być różnie. 

ŁŚ: Chciałbym wrócić jeszcze do optymizmu na chwilę. Czy macie nadzieję, że pojedziecie kiedyś na koncert do Białorusi? 

JM: Kiedyś może się zdarzyć. Przecież wszyscy ci ludzie tam nie będą żyć wiecznie! Oni może tak o sobie myślą, ale to niemożliwe. Więc ja mam nadzieję, że kiedyś pojedziemy. Problem jest w tym, że my nie tylko nie możemy tam pojechać na koncert. My nie możemy tam pojechać w ogóle. Więc kiedy ja myślę o Białorusi, to w pierwszej kolejności nie o tym, że chciałbym tam zagrać. Ja po prostu chciałbym tam się znowu znaleźć. 




ŁŚ: Zmieniliście niedawno skład zespołu. Teraz gracie w czwórkę. Czy z waszej perspektywy bardzo się to różni? Na YouTubie jest wideo, które zatytułowaliście “Wreszcie jesteśmy czteroosobowym zespołem!”, tak jakbyście bardzo na to czekali. 

SP: Ja bym powiedział, że może nie “czekaliśmy”, ale na pewno jesteśmy zadowoleni. Nasza muzyka brzmi po prostu trochę inaczej, gdy gramy na scenie jako duet, a inaczej jak gramy teraz w czwórkę. Wydaje mi się, że to Jegor bardziej chciał grać w czwórkę, ja nie miałem w sobie tyle entuzjazmu dla tego pomysłu, ale teraz już mi się podoba. 

JM: Na pewno jest trudniej, bo jednak jak graliśmy we dwóch, to musieliśmy dogadywać się tylko ze sobą. A jak mamy cztery osoby to trzeba już tym jakby bardziej zarządzać. Ale tak, ja bardzo tego chciałem, bo myślałem, że są pewne rzeczy, które będą po prostu lepiej brzmieć, jak będzie nas więcej. Teraz, kiedy gramy w czwórkę, słychać więcej przestrzeni w naszym brzmieniu. 

AB: Bywałem na koncertach, kiedy Sasza i Jegor grali we dwóch i myślałam sobie “kurczę, jak to będzie brzmieć, kiedy będą prawdziwe bębny i bas”. 




ŁŚ: W przyszłym roku gracie kilka koncertów ze Spoiwem i z Jo Quail. Spoiwo to ikona polskiego post-rocka, Jo Quail związana jest z wieloma artystami z tego gatunku, grała przecież na przykład z God Is an Astronaut. Czy wy czujecie w ogóle związani z tym gatunkiem? 

SP: To na pewno jeden z tych gatunków, który lubimy, zwłaszcza ja. Jeszcze w Białorusi grałem w dwóch zespołach, Challenger Deep to taki bardziej post-metal, Marie Chante takie jakby screamo, ale z post-rockiem. 

JM: Można powiedzieć, że Sasza naprawdę ma post-rockowe korzenie. Ja wcześniej nie słuchałem tego gatunku. 

SP: Otworzyłem to w tobie! 

JM: Jestem od dawna fanem Swans, ale to może nie jest tak dokładnie post-rock. Takie prawdziwe zespoły post-rockowe zacząłem dla siebie odkrywać już jak założyliśmy Flower and Pines. 

ŁS: Mogę to zrozumieć, bo wydaje mi się, że w post-rocku przekazuje się dużo treści i emocji w warstwie instrumentalnej, a ty jednak piszesz słowa, i to one są bardzo emocjonalne i poetyckie. 

 JM: Myślę, że jest tu związek, tak. W ogóle muzyki instrumentalnej zacząłem słuchać dość późno. Zawsze chciałem, żeby były słowa, żeby ktoś tam śpiewał. 

ŁŚ: W tym momencie przekazujecie treść i emocje zarówno słowami, jak i muzyką. Uważacie, że można to połączyć w jednym projekcie? 

JM: Nie mamy żadnego problemu, żeby to łączyć. Wręcz jak założyliśmy nasz zespół to myślałem, że nie będzie w nim tak naprawdę dużo wokali. Ja w zespołach byłem zawsze raczej wokalistą, a tutaj chciałem raczej grać na gitarze i robić coś bardziej instrumentalnego, tak aby wokale były bardziej dodatkiem, ale wyszło trochę inaczej. 

ŁŚ: Jasne. Spytałem o to, bo w opisie waszej muzyki, chyba na Spotify jest, że tworzycie muzykę minimalistyczną. Ja na przykład tego zupełnie nie słyszę. 

JM: A, bo to chodzi o minimalizm w kompozycji. 

SP: Dokładnie. Gdybyśmy robili coś bardziej skomplikowanego to osiągnęlibyśmy inny cel niż chcieliśmy. Minimalistyczne podejście do kompozycji pozwala słuchaczom przeżyć jakieś uczucie w jej trakcie, na przykład, kilka razy. To pozwala dopiero dotrzeć do jej sensu, tak myślę. 

JM: Na przykład, gdy przez cały utwór nie zmieniamy akordu to… 

SP: To jest jakby podstawa. Jeżeli przyjmiemy, że jedna piosenka to jakaś historia, to ten jeden akord to taka podstawa, na której wszystko się dzieje. I potem może dodajesz różne sceny, różne postaci, coś tam one robią, coś tam się dzieje, ale ta podstawa nie zmienia się aż do końca. 

 JM: Myślę, że nie skłamię, jeśli powiem, że chcemy też, żeby nasza muzyka brzmiała trochę transowo i żeby można było się dać temu transowi porwać. Dlatego jak mówimy o minimalizmie, to chodzi po prostu o kompozycję, a w aranżacjach to już może być totalny eklektyzm. 

ŁŚ: No jednak ta ściana dźwięku, to się czasem pojawia! W warstwie lirycznej też tak jest, że powtarzacie te same motywy, frazy, na przykład w Dogs. To też może działać transowo. 

JM: Gdy robiliśmy Dogs, to nie mieliśmy takiego celu na początku. 

SP: Ja bym powiedział, że podczas tworzenia naszych kawałków, najpierw myśleliśmy o tym, żeby to między sobą pracowało i łączyło się w spójną całość. Chociaż nie uzgadnialiśmy między sobą jakiegoś konkretnego celu, to jednak gdzieś tam w środku czuliśmy, jak chcemy, żeby nasze utwory brzmiały. 

JM: Do tego ja, na przykład, mam tak, jeszcze z dzieciństwa, że jak usłyszę coś fajnego to chcę, żeby to się po prostu powtarzało i powtarzało i powtarzało. Często odczuwam smutek, że jakiś fajny moment pojawił się tylko raz. 

SP: Te wszystkie małe rzeczy podtrzymują atmosferę tego transu. 

JM: Tak żeby nasze kompozycje zaczęły działać.🦢